The Secret of Severus Snape, Slytherin
by Budgie4
Summary: This is my version of the accident of the Shrieking Shack, and what follows. What if James Potter didn't arrive in time? What if Severus was prepared to face a werewolf? What if Dumbledore is forced to give justice? Lives are changed, and with them, Fate.
1. Prologue

**The Secret of Severus Snape, Slytherin**

**Prologue:**

It was amusing, Severus thought, as he slowly made his way through the tunnel, how blind people could be when they chose to close their eyes and only see what they wished to see.

He was well aware that at the end of his journey, he would be facing a werewolf. He had known about Lupin since the middle of their first year, when he finally connected his monthly absences to the full moon. It had been quite entertaining watching his friends flounder for the better part of three years, before they finally figured it out. He had told Lily, of course, but she had brushed it off as unimportant. He agreed that it was. Despite his bad blood, Lupin was too spineless to pose a threat, and Severus had been content to keep his silence on the matter.

That had been before.

Before Gryffindor House finally succeeded ripping Lily away from him, clouding her earlier so astute judgement. Before she had started parroting the stigma the other Houses felt towards his own, and by her generalisations categorised him with the devil, causing him to lash out so viciously at the end of last year.

It had been before Potter and Black crossed the line, taking their humiliations of him too far, dangling him up-side-down with his own spell, for the whole school to see.

He had had enough, now. Enough of Lily's stony, Gryffindor self-righteous silence. Enough of the Marauder's – and really, what an idiotic label to claim – bullying. Enough of the passive dismissal of the teachers, and the applauds of the other students, every time they found some new torment to inflict on him. Enough of being the victim, despite the fact that he could easily take down all four of the Marauder's, if he were willing to go to Azkaban for it, which he wasn't.

No, he was going do to better.

A smile momentarily twisted his lips, before his features moulded back into the disinterested sneer he had perfected through the years.

He was done being the victim. He was done trying to make it up to Lily, trying to apologise when she was in the wrong as well. He was done letting the teachers overlook the faults of their Golden Gryffindors.

It had been so easy to rile Black. The idiot had taken the bait quickly, thinking he was _so_ darned clever. His left hand went to the pocket where he had put the note he had found in his Transfiguration book. He had to hand it to Black, though, the handwriting was a perfect replica of Lily's. In fact, had it not been for Lily giving him the cold shoulder ever since The Accident, he would have been hard pressed not to believe that it actually was Lily asking him to meet him secretly so that they could overcome their differences. There was really only one fault, and that was only to someone who knew the supposed author as well as he did, and who was in possession of an exceptional sense of smell, which was the only true compensation of his enormous berk. Instead of Lily's scent, her natural flavour mixed with her favourite perfume, the note smelled faintly of dog.

They thought he was stupid enough to fall for this, when he knew perfectly well that Lily was now forever out of his reach. He regretted that, but somewhere deep inside, he had always known their friendship was too good to last. Nothing good ever lasted for long. He had made peace with that, now, but he would have his revenge.

They thought Lupin would scare him off, or kill him. Bbviously, Black had not thought about the repercussions should Lupin succeed in either killing him, or merely pass on his cursed disease. Neither had he fully contemplated whether or not Severus was more dangerous than a raging, adolescent werewolf.

That was three mistakes rolled into one, and one Severus would make him regret.

Potter and Black were very protective of their little, bookish friend, and Severus knew that hurting him would be the fastest, most effective way of hurting both of them at once. The note was a nice touch, too. It had infuriated the mangy mutt that he had ignored the hints, which, since Gryffindors simply are that stupid, had been more like glaring neon signs impossible to overlook. The fact that he reacted to the note, went here for _Lily_, would throw in a good deal of guilt for her as well. Yes, he should not have called her a Mudblood, but their fighting had started long before that one word, and she had called his housemates, and by association him, equally as foul names during their heated arguments. She had known him since that day in the playground, since they were nine years old. She ought to know him better than that he had meant it. He was a halfblood himself. that she was able to simply cut all strings, and bury her nose in her righteous indignation, showed him just how much all her professed love and friendship really meant, how little faith she actually had in him. She had fooled him all these years, and for that she deserved to suffer the guilt of his near-death.

The other houses thought they knew what it meant to be a Slytherin, and condemned the house. They were wrong, and they were right. A Slytherin always paid his debts, with interests, and that was what Severus would do this night.

He did not feel bad about using Lupin as he was going to. While the boy had never actually done anything to Severus, he had not prevented his friends from doing so either, despite the fact that he was a prefect. Lupin was so ridden by his disease that he had developed into a spineless doormat, willing to let anyone use him for a kind word.

Well, if that was how Lupin wanted to play, Severus had no qualms following the rules. He would use Lupin, just as Black sought to do tonight. But while Black wanted to use Lupin to ruin Severus' life, Severus would use the werewolf to get back at his tormentors, and his teachers, while teaching the spineless little coward a lesson.

They would all regret ever messing with Severus Snape.

As he neared the end of the tunnel, his ears picked up on the enraged sounds the beast he was soon going to face emitted.

Taking a deep breath, he focused on what he was about to do. He cleared his mind of all but the task before him, and continued on his way, secure in the knowledge that the spells he had cast upon himself to make him both soundless and scent-free would hold, and the beast would have no forewarning of his arrival before they were face to face.

Any other would have probably quailed at the prospect of facing a werewolf head on, but Severus had grown up at Spinners End, and faced the hardships of the neighbourhood, along with the drunken wrath of Tobias, and he felt no fear at the prospect of facing violence.

The only thing that could rattle Severus' unflappable calm was the gentler emotions. Emotions he had not been the recipient of since he broke with Lily, and his mother's death four years previously.

Shaking off the thoughts of the only two people he had ever cared for, he slowly advanced to the solid door leading from the damp, dark tunnel into the haunted den of a raging werewolf.

He loosened his white-knuckled grip on his wand, relaxing his tense muscles. This should be over soon. It was just like a home, the werewolf was his father in a drunken rage, and he had survived all the way to sixteen. The only difference between now and his past experiences was that this time he could actually fight back without risking loosing everything. He knew enough, was skilled enough, to succeed. And should he fail – a cynical glint entered his eyes, his lips twisting into a diabolical smirk – he would be free of his miserable existence, and the Headmaster would have no choice but take action against Lupin. Not even a manipulative, prejudiced old bastard like him could allow a werewolf who had tasted human flesh to run free. But he would not fail. He would not!


	2. Chapter 1: The Hospital Wing

Thank you to all my reviewers! It's been great getting your feedback on this story, I really appreciate you taking the time to comment.

Here's the second chapter, enjoy...

**The Hospital Wing:**

By Salazar, Merlin and Morgan, he hurt!

His body was one big ache, the focal points of the pain being his right shoulder and rib, and his left knee and part of the thigh. His head was groggy, and the taste in his mouth was foul. Lights danced before his eyes, even though he kept them closed. The pain reliever and sleep potion he had been given must have worn off. His thoughts were sluggish, his memory hazy in the first agonised moments of wakefulness.

He didn't move a muscle, the distinct scents and the notion of light through his closed eyelids too well known for him not to know were he was. The Hospital Wing. Being here, along with the pain, meant it was Bad. He never went here if he could handle his injuries himself, which he had done numerous times over the years to avoid the unavoidable fussing from Madam Pomfrey, who saw his presence in her domain as a slight to her professional skills. That was due to the Marauder's vengeance in third year, when the truly picked up the mantle of Tormentors of All Things Severus Snape. After the fourth time of treating his broken bones, the Madam had had a heated talk with professor McGonagall, and the Marauders had toned their antics down enough for him not to need professional help to heal – which was also due to his own practice in healing spells and potions, their harassment of him forced him to learn.

He hadn't made a sound, but as the dancing spots of light faded and the grogginess of sleep and pain cleared, he picked up the tapping steps of the nurse as she walked through the Infirmary. Moments later, the curtain around his bed was pulled back, and he sense her presence beside him.

"You need another dose and pain reliever, and you could use another blood replenisher. You look too pale. Here, sip slowly." He heard the swish of her wand, and his upper body was gently lifted so he could drink without problems. The rim of a glass was put to his lips, and he swallowed dutifully. He had learned the hard way not to argue with the nurse.

"Now, can you open those eyes? I need to see your pupils."

Slowly, blinking against the harsh light, Severus obeyed. The pain reliever had already kicked in, and he felt strangely numb now that the pain had gone. Madam Pomfrey nodded encouragingly to him, then tipped his head back and peered into his eyes. Seemingly satisfied, she waved her wand over him in the familiar pattern of a diagnosis spell. The numbers and symbols appearing in the air were bad, but not as bad as expected. The tendons in his right shoulder were torn, and the upper arm bone was broken. The fourth, fifth and sixth rib were bruised, but not broken. His right wrist was sprained, and his left kneecap was broken while parts of the thigh were torn up. All of it was mending, but slowly.

The Madam tsk'ed, then looked down at him. "You have been extremely lucky, young man. Not only did you survive, you did so with a minimum of injuries. Now, I will go summon your breakfast, and gather your potions. You will eat everything, and drink everything. Then I will change your bandages and examine you again."

Severus nodded, then licked his lower lip nervously.

"Did… did I kill him?" he asked, not faking the apprehension showing through in his voice and on his face. The curtain was still encircling his bed, securing his own privacy, but keeping him from seeing the rest of the room and the other possible patients. Not that he believed any rational person would allow a werewolf to reside with sick students, but the Headmaster had already made more than clear that he was not a rational wizard. No matter where they'd stashed Lupin, it was important for him to know. Killing the wolf had not been his intention – it would, in fact, impede his plan of revenge – but he could not recall if Lupin had still been breathing when Potter and an entourage of curious had barged into the Shack after the fight.

Madam Pomfrey's expression softened, and she returned to the bed. There was compassion in her warm, brown eyes. She had taken his enquiry as concern for his classmate.

"Mr. Lupin is still alive, Mr. Snape. He was sent to St. Mungos for treatment. The Healers expect him to pull through, just like yourself." Then she cleared her voice. "I'll go get your breakfast now. The Headmaster expect to be given notice when you're ready to be questioned, and I won't let him and those Aurors upset you without some food in you." with that announcement, the nurse turned and bustled away, leaving Severus to relax back into the soft pillows and ruminate over her words.

Five minutes later, a tray with a bowl of broth, a glass of water, a slice of soft bread and an array of potions were placed in front of him, and the sharp eyes of Madam Pomfrey prompted him out of his thoughts and made him reach for the spoon with his left hand.

"Madam? What happened to my wand?" he asked, having noticed it was not beneath his pillow or on the bedside table, before taking a spoonful of soup.

"Your Head of House has it. It will be returned to you shortly, I'm certain. Call me when you've eaten. I need to check on Mr. Potter now."

"Potter? Why's he here?" that Potter was in the Infirmary was a surprise. Severus distinctly remembered the boy barrelling into the Shack, looking healthy enough.

The nurse turned serious eyes at him.

"He got a concussion last night. It would seem, Mr. Snape, that even half dead and bleeding, you throw a fairly accurate _Expilliarmus_. It threw Mr. Potter into the wall and rendered him unconscious. Now, eat up." With that, she left him again. A softening of her mouth, however, ruined the air of sternness she aimed for in her lecture. They both knew that while the nurse disliked the consequences of fighting, she felt no particular empathy for Potter, as it was often his antics that landed his fellow classmates in her care.

Knowing he would be spoon fed if he didn't do as told, Severus set about emptying the bowl, dutifully drinking all the potions, while contemplating the upcoming meeting with the Headmaster and the Aurors.


	3. Chapter 2: Questions & Explanations

_Right. Before we start on the chapter, I'd like to apologise to those of you who've been reading since I first posted this story, back in January 2010. _

_It's been a very long wait, but all I say is that real life can be a bitch, and due to some turbulence my Muse decided to go an extended holiday and only recently came back, all smug and with an attitude. Which resulted in the second chapter finally getting done. _

_This was a hard chapter to write for me, and while I'm not sure I've managed to keep Severus completely in character, I'm satisfied with the way it's played out. _

_I promise you there won't be as long a wait for the next chapter, I've already outlined it in my head, and should have it up sometime during the next two weeks. _

_Reviews are welcome, to let me know if I've succeeded keeping in line with the characters, if the storyline sucks and so on. Below, I've got a poll going, but as it's nothing to do with the immediate story, I'll let you get to that first. _

_Enjoy._

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**Questions & Explanations:**

It was three hours later before Severus could relax back into his pillows, awaiting the arrival of the Headmaster and the Aurors.

The madam had been thorough in her examination, and had drilled him through some easy, but taxing movements in order to ascertain the amount of damage, as well as the effects of the potions and healing spells she had cast.

Severus was only grateful that Potter had been released into the custody of Professor McGonagall beforehand. It would have been too humiliating having the other boy listening in as the nurse fussed over him.

It had been a harrowing experience to have his bandages changed. Despite all his past injuries, he had never had a broken kneecap before, and the amount of wounds had made him realise just how fortunate he was that he hadn't bleed out in the Shack, despite his preparations.

He had not complained, however, not once during his lengthy examination. He was still weak from last night, and it would do no good to use up all of his mental energy arguing with the one person at Hogwarts who actually looked out for his welfare. He needed to be strong during his questioning.

Before she left him, the madam had remarked on his poor colour, and the fact that she ought to give him a sleeping potion to aid his recovery. Severus had hastened to assure her that he was well enough to answer questions, and that the resolution of the situation was more important than his discomfort. She had reluctantly given in to his arguments, but as she left to summon the proper people, he had heard her mutter about undue stress of her patients and overzealous Aurors.

Satisfied that he would get to present his case suitably injured, the unquestionable victim for once, he consciously relaxed his abused flesh and let his head roll limply on the pillow until he looked left, then half-closed his eyes as he waited. Even though Madam Pomfrey had dimmed the light, the bright white walls still made it harsh enough to irritate his eyes.

So far, everything had gone as planned. Well, he mused, he had not expected to be quite _this_ roughed up, but even so it would be in his favour. The fact that Potter had been hurt while trying to interfere was a bonus, but he would have to be careful how he handled that little detail. His memory had cleared since he first woke up, and he knew that Potter's attempt at 'saving' him would be played to its full by the opposition. Still, nothing would be determined until he had the opportunity to assess those coming to investigate the happenings.

Everything would depend on who they were, how they viewed lycanthropy and what House-allegiance they held.

Everyone said that once one left Hogwarts, it played no role what House you had belonged to. Those who believed that were either extremely naïve, and extremely foolish or both. Severus was neither, and he knew that one never escaped the past. Connections made at school held life out, and so did rivalry and philosophical beliefs.

He would just have to see who would come, and determine who was the highest authority. Which was not necessarily the highest-ranking member.

The muted sound of voices caught his attention, and then the doors to the Infirmary opened and the noise seemed to triple as what could only be a horde of people spilled into the otherwise quiet space.

He was amused to hear Madam Pomfrey promptly arriving, immediately halting any progress of the invaders and in quiet, but angry tones informing them that this was a hospital, not a Quidditch pitch, and if they wanted to question her patient before she felt he was quite ready for it, they would behave themselves and not cause him undue distress – and if that did not suit them, they could take themselves right out of her domain and stay away until she saw fit to release 'the poor boy'!

There was a short, strained pause, then mumbled apologies, and the many footsteps followed the tapping steps of the madam as she closed in.

Being forewarned, Severus was ready when she slipped inside his enclosure.

"Mr. Snape, the authorities are here now, dear. Are you feeling up to this? I can have them come back another time, you know." she asked, clucking over him as she ran another diagnostic spell over him, just to make sure he was not too exhausted.

"I'm fine, Madam. Please, I'd like to just get it over with." He replied, speaking quietly but with a steady voice.

"All right, I'll let them in. But if at any time you need to stop, you call me, do you hear?" she ordered, and at his nod and quiet "Yes, Madam." She turned and started to open the curtains.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, I'll leave you to it." Madam Pomfrey said, casting a last disapproving look at the people who gathered around the bed, then retreated into her office in a huff.

Severus was left to look up at four strangers and his Head of House, who looked as if he would really rather be anywhere else.

"Mr. Snape, my name is Anselma Schermer, I am from the Ministry Department of Children's Protection, and this is my colleague, Gyles Haggard." The sole woman said, giving a reassuring smile.

She was quite plain, with mousy brown hair and brown eyes, dressed conservatively in dark grey robes. There was no hint as to her more exotic name, but beneath the smile – which actually made her pretty – Severus sensed a deep-rooted strength.

The man she indicated was her height, and had a striking resemblance to his name. He was young, not more than five years older than Severus, with dirty-blond hair and a goatee which did nothing to improve the looks of his thin, bony face, nor did his round glasses do anything but further obscure his wide-set, grey eyes. His robes were an unfortunate brown, making his skin appear sickly.

"These two gentlemen are Auror Paterson and Auror Seabrooke."

Severus moved his head infinitesimally to survey the other two unknown wizards, both garbed in the plum-coloured robes of an Auror.

Auror Paterson was the oldest, and the tallest. He was a large man, built like a bear and with thick, grey hair and cool, blue eyes that'd seen much and an attitude that he wasn't impressed.

Auror Seabrooke was younger, but only by a decade Severus guessed. He was smaller than his colleague, but still tall even though Severus guessed there was strength in his slender form. He still had a head full of brown curls, and his brown eyes were kind.

Beside them, his Head of House seemed even more obese than he usually did.

"A pleasure, ma'am, sirs." Severus greeted, giving a slight nod. "Excuse me for not getting up, but Madam Pomfrey would be angry." He apologised.

"No need, dear," Schermer waved away his concerns. "Madam Pomfrey has already explained your injuries. Auror Paterson and Auror Seabrooke wish to question you on what happened last night. Mr. Haggard and I are here to observe and make sure your rights are being represented, and to see if this is a result of neglect from the administration. Your Head of House is here as _loco parentis_, as we have been unable to make contact with your father. We are doing everything we can to locate him, but because of the seriousness of the situation, I want to know if you are comfortable speaking with us without a guardian present?" Schermer explained, sitting down by his bedside in the chair Haggard drew up for her.

"No, it's fine, ma'am. I don't mind." Severus replied, blinking at her.

"Gentlemen, if you would?" Schermer gestured for the Aurors to come forth and begin. Three pieces of parchment floated in the air, each with their own dictaquill waiting to record every word said.

"Mr. Snape, would you please explain what led you to be in the Shrieking Shack yesterday evening?" Auror Paterson asked, eyes boring into Severus, daring him to speak a lie.

"Yes sir." He replied with a nod, grimacing slightly as a jagged pain shot through his arm as he attempted to shift position.

"It started when I found a note from Lily in my transfiguration book-"

"Would you mind stating the full name of this Lily, and your connection with her?" Auror Paterson interrupted, and garnered a glare from Schermer, who looked displeased at his abrupt fashion, but nodded encouragingly at Severus to do as asked.

"Lily Evans, she's a Gryffindor sixth year. We are, used to be, friends. We had a – a fall-out last June." Here, he couldn't keep his voice firm and it wobbled a bit, but he swallowed hard and took a deep breath through his nose, steadying himself. It was hard to speak of Lily, even like this. Despite the months that had passed, it still hurt how she had cut him off so thoroughly. The emotional pain was crushing. But with an effort he pushed it aside. He called up the anger instead, the anger of being deemed inferior once more, of being insignificant and being ignored by the one person he thought knew him well enough to care. Who had proclaimed to care. Lies. All of it lies. No-one cared. No-one would _ever_ care. But by the Founders, she would regret it. They would all regret it. No-one would ever dare mess about with him ever again once he was done here. all he had to do was focus, keep it together and convince these stuck-up people to play for his side. For once.

"It's all right, Mr. Snape. Take your time." Haggard assured him, attempting to offer comfort. It was unnecessary, but Severus gave him a nod in acknowledgement anyway. No need to alienate the help, after all.

"It's fine. It's just. We used to be close, before Hogwarts. But Lions and Snakes can't be friends, here. We managed, though. Until last June. But before, when we were friends, we used to slip notes into each other's books. That way, our Housemate's couldn't get upset at us for conspiring with the 'enemy'." Here, he gave a wry smile, eyes glittering as he thought back to happier times. The reaction did not go unnoticed by any of the adults.

"The note, Mr. Snape? You stated this started with a note you received from Miss. Evans?" Auror Seabrooke prodded.

Severus blinked, focusing again. Nodding, he continued.

"Yes. I found a note from Lily last night, when I was starting on my transfiguration homework. I didn't believe it at first. We haven't spoken since – since our fight. I thought maybe she'd changed her mind. That she wanted to try again. She asked me to meet with her. I don't think the note survived." He added suddenly, looking up at Auror Paterson. "I had it in my pocket in my robes."

"We have your clothes, and will search them for it. Please, continue." Auror Paterson stated gruffly.

"Well, it took me by surprise. The note. I didn't think Lily would ever speak to me again, she'd made that plain. I was – pleased. Then I noti-noticed the meeting place. She asked to meet me in the Shrieking Shack. No-one ever comes there, because of the rumours of it being haunted. It puzzled me that she would want to meet me there, after curfew. Lily's not a rule breaker. But I forgot about that when I realised that yesterday was the full moon. You can't go out of the castle at night on the full moon. Not unless you're suicidal. Going to the Shack on the full moon is more so. It's asking to be killed." his voice grew more ragged as he spoke, his carefully donned façade of calm cracking slightly. Both because of the thought of Lily actually facing a ravaging werewolf, but also a mixture of the residual adrenalin that pumped through him at the memory of fighting Lupin, and a bit of show. No-one felt compassion with a cold fish, as he well knew. Lowering his façade now, when he was well known for never showing his emotions, would be chalked up to his distress of recent events and would go a long way in paving the road he wanted to take.

"And why is that, Mr. Snape? Why would you not leave the castle on a full moon? And why especially avoid the Shrieking Shack?" Schermer asked gently, smiling at him.

At the questions, Severus turned his head to face her and blinked, slowly.

"Because the Shack is where Lupin goes for his transformation." He stated, utterly calm.

"The Headmaster takes him out there each night before sunset, and when he's transformed, the other Marauders goes and lets him out of there."

Ringing silence followed his words.

He felt a frisson of pleasure skitter down his back in triumph as he watched the reactions his words garnered. Schermer gasped, a hand flying to her mouth, eyes widening in shock she couldn't hide. Haggard's mouth fell open, making him look like a stranded fish. The two Aurors were better at hiding their surprise, but he could still catch the surprise sparkling in their eyes, and the younger one, Seabrooke, shuffled uncomfortably. Behind them, professor Slughorn looked utterly uncomfortable, and cast longing glances towards the doors, obviously whishing himself far away from here.

"Are you telling us, Mr. Snape," Auror Paterson asked in his clipped, no-nonsense do-not-dare-to-lie-or-it-will-be-worse-for-you tone of voice, "that not only did the Headmaster condone a werewolf attending Hogwarts, but he let _fellow students_ unleash it every full moon?"

Shifting again in order to make eye contact, grimacing as the movement pulled at his wounds and momentarily intensified the itchy sensation of the healing potions battling the curse that was werewolf saliva, he prepared himself to answer the question as truthfully as he could.

"I don't know if the Headmaster knew about the Marauders letting Lupin out. All I know is that he knew about Lupin."

"You knew about Lupin being a werewolf before you confronted him last night?" Haggard interrupted, looking faintly ill, and as if he doubted Severus' sanity.

"Of course I knew." He replied, tone offended as he drew himself up as much as he could while not stressing his injuries.

"It's not that difficult figuring out, is it, considering he disappears every full moon and is allergic to silver. I've known about Lupin since first year, when we where partnered in potions. We had to use a silver stirring rod, and he got a burn. He tried to pass it off as having caught himself on a hot fire poker the day before, but it's hard to disguise the small of burnt flesh, even in a room full of potions fumes."

"And you kept quiet about knowing that a werewolf where among the students?" Auror Paterson looked downright intimidating, but being used to intimidation tactics, Severus was able to shrug it off and answer quietly.

"I did not blabber about it to the other students, if that is what you're asking. I spoke to my Head of House, professor Slughorn, and with Deputy Headmistress McGonagall."

"And what did they tell you?" Schermer asked, gently, sending a warning glare at the Aurors to tone down the aggression. They were speaking with an ill boy, not a criminal. Both of the Aurors were looking crossly at Slughorn, who simply looked back, but looked quite guilty and uncomfortable.

"I was told to stay out of it, that the teachers were aware and would handle Lupin. That he was here on the Headmaster's invitation."

"And you did not think to go to the Ministry?" Auror Paterson asked. "You do know that werewolves are not allowed at children's institutes due to the danger they represent."

"Why would I go to the Ministry? I was told the Headmaster knew about and welcomed Lupin. I thought he had some understanding with the Ministry about it. Besides, why would anyone believe me against Headmaster Dumbledore? Everyone knows about the bad blood between me and the Marauders." the last was said bitterly, with a tinge of self-mockery as he lowered his eyes to his bedspread.

Auror Seabrooke cleared his throat, apparently trying to get back on track before his older colleague could start in on that track of questioning again.

"So you knew about Lupin and where he would be. You also mentioned that the Marauders let out Lupin after his transformation. Would you care to clarify the details, please, Mr. Snape? Why would these boys let out a werewolf that could easily kill them?"

"They're animaguses." He answered, lifting his head again and looking at the younger Auror, allowing eye contact.

"They became animaguses sometime during the end of fourth year and the second term of fifth year. That's when I saw them. I had had a late detention with professor Ashton, and I saw them when I came back to the castle. Black's a dog, Potter's a stag and Pettigrew's a rat. When they let him out, they disappear into the Forbidden Forest. I think it's to let Lupin hunt. Because I got in trouble when I inquired about Lupin, I decided to keep my mouth shut this time. I didn't think they could've pulled it off without professor McGonagall knowing, and if she knew, the Headmaster was sure to know too."

"You knew Lupin was a werewolf, you knew he would be in the Shrieking Shack last night to transform, and you knew the Marauders were on their way to let him out to hunt. Yet you still entered the Shack alone, ready to take on a werewolf by yourself, without letting any of your professors know what was happening. Why?" Auror Paterson demanded to know.

The reply he got was instantaneously and sincere.

Severus looked directly at the Auror and said one word.

"Lily."

For a moment the name hung in air, a solitary explanation for everything, a reason.

"Because I thought Lily was there." He continued, more quietly, voice lowering. "I thought she was already there, waiting. I told her about Lupin. She was the only one I told. She shared House with him, I thought she deserved to know so she could look after herself. She didn't believe me, though. She laughed it off. Said that Lupin was the gentlest boy she knew, that he couldn't possible be a werewolf. Getting a professor would take too long, to both explain and to react, if they even decided to believe me. She could have been killed in that time. And it would have been my fault." Here, he had to suppress very real tears, pausing for a moment to breathe deeply, to gather himself again. He had known Lily would not be at the Shack, had set it up himself, but the thought of her getting mauled as he himself had been – she was so hopeless with defence, unable to harm others with magic even if she did not hold back with her tongue.

"I promised to protect her. When we got our Hogwarts letters, she was so exited to go, to learn more, to meet others like her. She's muggleborn, so she only knew what little I could tell her. But she was also scared. So I promised her I'd look after her, see to it that she wasn't hurt. I couldn't let her get infected, or killed, by Lupin because I didn't protect her. We might not be friends anymore, but I gave her my word. I keep my word. And as it turned out – she wasn't even there. She wasn't in any danger. She just wanted me dead."

* * *

_A cliffhanger! _

_I know, sorry, but as I said above, the next chapter is in the works and will be up during the next two weeks, so please don't shoot me! It just fit for me to end the chapter here, before it got too long, especially as the next one is bound to get long as well._

_Because I like the idea that names have meaning, I've attempted to find some that match what I need the persons to be in the story. I've included the meanings behind my four characters below. _

Anselma: German, the feminine form of Anselm, which means "god" and "helmet, protection".

Schermer: Dutch, German, means "to defend".

Gyles: English, comes through Latin from Greek and means "young goat".

Haggard: English, means "wild, untamed, worn".

Paterson: English, Scottish, means "son of Patrick".

Seabrooke: English, means "from Seabrook (Bucks), England".

_Anyway, to my poll. _

_I've already decided what to with the Marauders later on, but I have a bit of trouble thinking up appropriate measures for Lupin, Dumbledore and if the other teachers should suffer consequences of going along with the scheme? _

_I'd like to hear if any of you have any good ideas, as although I'm not the biggest Lupin fan out there, I'm also not entirely inclined to kill him off, which should be the verdict by the Ministry considering he _is_ a werewolf and has attacked a fellow student, knowingly or not. So, if you've got any great ideas that do not include death, Azkaban and such, I'd really appreciate if you'd let me know. _

_As for Dumbledore, the old man should receive some discipline from the Ministry, having endangered the students he is hired to protect, and from ignoring the harassment of a student that could easily have led to death and destruction. I'm just unsure of what that discipline should be, so again, any ideas please let me know. _

_As said, I'm unsure whether or not the other professors should be disciplined as well, considering they are following the orders of their Headmaster. Then again, they are grown witches and wizards, and really should know better – they are, essentially, breaking the laws by not tattling. So, do they get disciplined or shall I let it slide? _

_These decisions do not have any immediate impact on the next two chapters, but it'll be a huge help for me to outline where the story are headed, knowing what needs to be incorporated. So please use the review button below and let me know what you think _

_Thanks_

_Budgie4_


	4. Chapter 3: Q & E The Werewolf

_Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! _

_Those of you who took the time to comment – you've given me much to work with, and also opened my eyes to details I hadn't considered before, so thank you. _

_I believe my story will be better and more realistic with your input. _

_I hope you enjoy the continued interrogation._

* * *

**Questions & Explanations – The Werewolf**

"_I promised to protect her. When we got our Hogwarts letters, she was so exited to go, to learn more, to meet others like her. She's muggleborn, so she only knew what little I could tell her. But she was also scared. So I promised her I'd look after her, see to it that she wasn't hurt. I couldn't let her get infected, or killed, by Lupin because I didn't protect her. We might not be friends anymore, but I gave her my word. I keep my word. And as it turned out – she wasn't even there. She wasn't in any danger. She just wanted me dead." _

The silence following his quiet, heartbroken declaration was deafening.

Keeping his head down, attempting to get his emotions back under control – as well as playing on the emotions of the adults – he surreptitiously watched the reactions around him. Professor Slughorn, the opportunistic society-climber, looked pale and utterly wretched. Several times he looked as if about to speak, but then he closed his mouth again. Probably because of the acidic looks he got from the other four. Auror Paterson and Seabrooke exchanged knowing looks, signalling to each other with small hand gestures and the mimic of their faces, their stances. Neither of them liked what he had just said, and he felt that especially Seabrooke were on his side now, and Paterson was thawing slowly, his more substantial experience making him a harder nut to crack. Haggard simply looked stunned, as if he couldn't believe his own ears. A goat indeed.

Schermer was the only one who actually moved.

She let out a loud breath, then sprang into action, conjuring a box of tissues and offering him one while tsk'ing quietly, compassion evident in her face as she fussed over him. She was swayed firmly to his side, if the glint of steel in her eyes and the posture of her shoulders were anything to go by.

"Here, just take a minute, Mr. Snape. There is no rush." She said comfortingly, allowing one hand to rest gently on his arm for a short moment, cementing their newly-established bond as protector and protected.

"Thank you." he murmured, taking a tissue and, struggling slightly, blew his nose with one hand, blinking back his tears, feeling the tightness in his skin lessen slightly as he calmed. The threat of crying had abated for now, and he was relieved. He had shed what tears he needed to already in his short life, and he would not shed another. Nothing was worth crying about. Crying meant it upset you, and if it upset you it meant you cared. There was nothing left in his life to care about. His mother, Lily – they were both gone, having abandoned him. One by force, the other by choice. Now, he had nothing left. Nothing except his potions and his revenge.

And he would succeed in both.

"I apologise, I did not mean to get dramatic. You wanted to know what happened?" Severus finally said, knowing not to draw this display of weakness out too long. While his Head may not take any interest in him due to his lack of standing, he _did_ know that it was exceptional for him to display any emotion outside the annoyed-angry spectrum of the scale. Being seen as weak was the same as being weak. And if there is one thing a Slytherin did not display – _especially_ a _half-blood_ Slytherin with no money and only his own reputation to get by on – it was weakness.

Besides which it was embarrassing to be seen this way, emotions going haywire. Apparently, he was more affected by the confrontation with Lupin than he thought. He would have to get control over himself. Allowing his emotions to rule was what usually got him into trouble. He needed his logic, his clear thinking, to make this work.

"Are you sure, Mr. Snape? The medi-witch explained your injuries to us. If you do not feel like continuing, we can come back after you've had a rest." Schermer said, her protective instincts successfully roused to a full burn.

He sent her a small, quick quirk of the lips in gratitude, then dismissed her offer.

"I'd rather have it done with, ma'am. While it's still fresh in my memory. May I have a glass of water, though?" he asked, and Haggard was quick to fill a goblet from the service sitting on the bedside table, where a pitcher of cool, fresh water and five goblets were waiting to be of use.

Taking the offered drink, he sipped it slowly, sighing softly as the fresh water soothed his raw throat. Then, having emptied the container, he gave it back and looked questioningly at Auror Paterson. The old man was the senior officer, and it did not hurt pandering to his rank and letting him think that Severus was obeying the unspoken authority about him.

"After you found the note, what did you do, Mr. Snape? You did not go to one of your professors? You did not say anything to one of your fellow housemates?" the Auror asked, no _demanded_.

Bristling inside at the pompous tone, and the fact that he was addressed as a simpleton, Severus merely shook his head, and gathered his thoughts. He was beginning to tire, but as he had said to Schermer, he would rather give his statement now. The fatigue he felt would help portray him as more vulnerable, more touchable and less scheming than if he had a good night's sleep. It was also the reason he had avoided the sleeping draught from madam Pomfrey earlier.

"No sir. I didn't. I was doing my homework alone, in my dorm room, when I found the note. When I realised what it meant, I didn't really have time to explain anything. Besides, I couldn't drag them out to face a werewolf. It only takes a drop of blood or saliva, and you're spending every full moon howling. Not that I thought about that at the time. When I realised where Lily was, and what would be happening, I just stuffed the note into my pocket and ran out." he blinked, pausing, then tilted his head slightly in contemplation.

"I'll need to apologise to Audrey Halligan. I ran into her on my way out of the common room, and I think I might have caused her to spill ink all over her homework."

The unexpected comment made the adults exchange glances, re-evaluating the boy before them once more.

"I am sure Miss. Halligan will understand, Mr. Snape." Haggard said into the silence.

"So you ran out of the common room. What then?" Seabrooke prompted gently, ignoring the non sequitur.

"I took the direct route out of the dungeons and to the Whomping Willow. It guards a tunnel that lead to the Shrieking Shack. To get in, you just have to push a root by the base of the tree, and it freezes up. That's why Pettigrew being a rat is so useful. He's the one activating the root, so Potter and Black can get through as well." He explained.

"I was curious. Seeing the three of them gallivanting out after dark, I wanted to know what they were up to. I was on my way back after detention, it wasn't as if I broke any rules to watch. I thought they might be doing something that'd actually make the professors punish them. When I found out they were visiting Lupin, I reconsidered. I didn't want trouble for meddling in the Headmaster's business." He defended himself, reacting to the raised brows from Auror Paterson when he spoke of Pettigrew and the Whomping Willow.

"Continue. You knew you had to get through the Whomping Willow." Auror Paterson directed, obviously wanting him to go on with the story.

"I hadn't been down in the tunnel before last night. I didn't know what I'd find when I got through the opening. When I reached the Willow, I found a branch long enough for me to poke the root, and the tree froze. I climbed down before it had a chance to unfreeze again, and found myself down in a narrow, earthen tunnel. It was dark, so I lit my wand and continued onwards. When I neared the other end, I could see the door to the Shack. I could hear the growls." He shivered involuntarily. Not because of the echo of the pain-filled, angry sounds he could still hear somewhere in his head, but because of what came after.

He had to be careful now, with how much he said and how he said it. For his inner eye, he saw himself reach for the doorknob and push open the door.

He saw himself enter the shabby, dirty exterior littered with broken furniture, large gauges in the floor and walls from large claws, the stench of old, dried and freshly spilt blood filling his nostrils.

The stench of piss and other excrements, the musky smell of canine.

And the sounds.

The anticipatory howl when he finally locked eyes on the unnatural, twisted beast, gazing into brightly burning, yellow eyes. Glazed from pain and hate and the thrill of the hunt.

For a moment, both he and the beast stood still, locked in a silent battle of wills.

Then, the fight was on.

"It was – I had no idea." His voice had dropped to a whisper, as he remembered. The unnatural shape of the werewolf, part wolf and part human but belonging to neither.

"I never imagined – I've seen pictures. I've studied it, ever since I found out, but I never knew. Something like that shouldn't exist. It doesn't belong. I knew it was Lupin, but he _wasn't there_. I could see it in those eyes. There was nothing there. No consciousness. Only hunger. Such a terrible hunger." Another shudder racked his body at the memory.

"What then, Mr. Snape? You entered the Shack and met the werewolf. What happened then?" Auror Paterson questioned relentlessly in the short silence as he got caught up in his memory.

"I cast spells. To disguise my scent. Before I entered, I mean. When I got inside, I think it was surprised to see me. We just – we just _looked_ at each other. I called out to Lily, I couldn't see her but there was so much blood. Everywhere. I thought I was already too late." He paused, swallowing, shifting position in an attempt to ease the pain in his shoulder. To the adults, it would look as if he was overcome with emotion.

"That's when it charged. I hexed it, I managed to evade it. It just kept coming at me. I don't remember all I cast, it all happened so quickly. I kept calling for Lily, but she never answered. Not that she would, would she? She wasn't there." It was said bitterly, and his face contorted as he fought back the anger burning within at the thought of her betrayal. Even though she really had nothing to do with all of this, she _had_ betrayed him. She had left him, with not so much as a backward glance. He would hold onto that anger, the hurt beneath fuelling his drive. He had to get this right. He had to play it just _so_, so there would be nothing but ashes left when the fire of his vengeance finally burned down.

"I don't really know how it happened. I kept it away from me, casting everything at it. It just kept on coming. I slipped. I think it was a chair leg, but I'm not sure. I fell onto my back, and suddenly it was _just there_. Right on top of me. Pinning me down. I couldn't use my wand, it'd stepped on my arm. It lunged at me, going for my throat. I didn't even know I could. We haven't trained that long, I shouldn't be able to do it yet. But it did. _I _did it." he could hear his own wonder in his voice as he thought back to those terrifying moments, when he thought it was over, he would finally be free of it all – and then the agonising pain and the howl of agony.

"What did you do, Mr. Snape?" Seabrooke asked, moving closer.

He looked up at the younger Auror, eyes shining with triumph.

"I transformed. I transformed into my animagus shape." He stated, pride evident in his voice as his face fairly glowed with the accomplishment, coaxing forth a bit of colour in his pale face.

"Truly? Professor McGonagall let me believe you were only halfway through your training!" Slughorn exclaimed, bringing focus from Severus to him in a heartbeat. When he realised, he gulped and smiled timidly at the two Auror's, who were eyeing him unfavourably.

"So, you were aware of Mr. Snape's training? I was under the impression that only seventh year students were offered the opportunity to attempt unlocking their animagus form." Auror Paterson bit out acidly.

"Ahem, well, yes, ordinarily that is so, Auror Paterson." Slughorn hemmed, drawing himself up. While he was well aware he was in trouble and would cater as necessary to these people, he would not be told off as to the academic proficiency of his students. Although he was obviously surprised at Snape's quick learning, he would defend the decision made.

"But Mr. Snape _is_ one of our most outstanding students, and when he expressed an interest in the proceedings of becoming an animagus in order to find out if the process could be duplicated by other means than transfiguration, professor McGonagall and I agreed to let him train as his extra curricular project. Professor McGonagall will be able to answer more in dept questions as transfiguration is her forte and not mine, but she did let me know that Mr. Snape were progressing steadily, although he were no where near ready to attempt an actual full transformation as of yet."

"I believe perhaps the stress of the situation brought about the necessary drive to make the transformation successful. It is, after all, powerful magic, and it is recorded that young, pre-Hogwarts children are capable of quite powerful and extraordinary feats when put in extreme situations, Auror Paterson. Facing a werewolf, unable to defend himself, I would think count as quite stressful." Haggard joined in, showing some potential as to his chosen profession for the first time in Severus' opinion.

"Congratulations on your success, Mr. Snape." Schermer smiled, her pleasure at his triumph sincere in her eyes.

"Thank you." he replied politely, relaxing slightly. Their reactions to this little revelation was quite good, and he would avoid the trouble the so-called _Marauders_ – inside, he sneered at the nick-name – would face now that their little secret had been slipped to the authorities.

"Do you know which animal you are?" Haggard asked, curiosity mixed with respect in his eyes. Transforming one self into an animal was the hardest transfiguration you could attempt, because of the focus necessary all the way through the process. If you slipped for only a second, you could get caught between forms, or simply revert back into human. The distraction was huge when it was ones own body twisting and turning, changing into something else. Doing it while under pressure from imminent death was impressive, but in this instant also a key factor to unlocking the transformation in the first place.

Severus shook his head slightly.

"No, I was a bit busy at the time. I just know that I'm small." He replied honestly, but with a hint of sarcasm underneath. As if he had had the time to stop and look at himself in a mirror, when there was a raging werewolf to deal with! His estimation of Haggard fell flat as quickly as it rose.

"So when the werewolf were about to bite you, you transformed?" Auror Paterson returned abruptly to the subject, gesturing for him to continue. However, he sensed a change in the stern man, a lessening of hostility and – was that a glint of approval in those cold eyes?

"Yes. One moment I was looking up at it, watching the teeth closing in. The next, all I felt was pain. It grabbed my shoulder and shook me. I found myself clawing at it, biting. It dropped me, and I tried to get away. I was smaller, and I couldn't transform back and use my wand as long as we were so close. That's when it grabbed my leg. It shook me again, and suddenly I was flying through the air. I don't remember hitting the wall, but when I came to again, I was lying on the floor, back to human, and it was howling. There was this terrible stench permeating the room, and it was acting crazed, clawing at it's own nose and rubbing itself against the floor. All the while howling. I still held my wand, and since it was distracted I cast a bubble-head charm on it, only in reverse. I thought, maybe if I cut off its air it would pass out from lack of oxygen and I'd be able to get out. I didn't dare move while I waited. It took so long, it just kept on going, howling and clawing and twitching. I thought it wouldn't work. That I was too weak to hold the magic. But then it collapsed. It just – collapsed. Not moving. I didn't get it, at first. I removed the charm. I thought it would get back up, but it just lay there, as if it was dead. I didn't mean to kill him. I thought I had, he didn't move. I thought I'd killed him." he looked up at Schermer, seeking the maternal figure rather than the men. He swallowed hard, keeping eye contact, willing her to understand the message he sent her.

None of the adults missed that he reversed back to describing Lupin as _him_ instead of _it_ again. A defence mechanism to protect himself from actually acknowledging that he had hurt a fellow student, instead of a crazed animal.

Schermer smiled at him, compassion in her eyes as she leaned close, putting a hand over his uninjured one.

"It's all right, Mr. Snape. St. Mungo's says that Mr. Lupin will pull through. You have done no permanent damage." She consoled him, and he nodded curtly, once, then looked down at the coverlet as he let the knowledge settle. The adults thought he was simply composing himself, relieved at the news.

He _was_, of course, but not for the reason they thought. He was relieved Lupin would get better. He held no grudges against the coward. He understood the position Lupin had been in, and he had not set out to purposefully harm the other boy. Lupin's destruction was not his goal, merely a means to reach his objectives. The destruction of Potter and Black, payback on Lily for turning from him, leaving him floundering in the dark by himself, and Dumbledore, the old hypocrite, for ignoring the pain happening right beneath his bloody half-moon spectacles just because it was dealt out by his Golden Gryffs.

"I was still trying to discern if I'd actually killed him, when the others barged in. I was confused, and when they stormed in, I just reacted. I didn't know I'd hurt anyone before I woke up and the madam told me. I think I blacked out. I remember a flash of bright orange, with a white stripe, but then everything's dark until I woke up here." he finished, looking up and gazing at Auror Paterson.

"Am I in trouble?" he asked, blinking, wanting to know if he could expect any repercussions for his actions. It really would be ironic if, when he had enough material to bring down his enemies and presented it to the right authorities, his own excursions brought him down as well.

Auror Paterson glanced quickly at Schermer, then met his gaze, sharp blue eyes gazing intently into exhausted dark ones.

"As of yet, you are not in trouble, Mr. Snape. We are still collecting all the facts, and I will not lie and say that there might not be any repercussions for you, but there _are_ extenuating circumstances. I would not worry at this point in time. Focus instead on getting better. We might need you to testify in court." The Auror said brusquely, but a crinkle at his eyes softened the blunt words and Severus relaxed.

Clipped footsteps interrupted before Schermer could say what she was about to, and Madam Pomfrey entered the cubicle.

"Gentlemen, madam, I have to ask you to leave now. Mr. Snape's numbers have dropped and he needs potions and rest now. If you have anything more, you will have to come back at another time." the medi-witch said briskly, nimbly easing between the two Aurors and close to Severus' bed, wand already weaving to check his temperature and vitals.

"Of course, ma'am, we were just about done. Mr. Snape." Auror Seabrooke gave a winning smile at the dark-haired, brown-eyed medi-witch, apparently enthralled by her no-nonsense and caring manner as she fussed over her patient.

"Please, Madam Pomfrey, let us know how Mr. Snape fares. Gyles and I shall be back tomorrow to speak more with Mr. Snape." Schermer smiled, offering a hand, which the madam shook after a short hesitation.

"Of course, Mrs. Schermer. Now, if you would be so kind. You too, Professor." The madam shooed them, the Auror's already on their way, having gathered their parchments and quills, the two Ministry people a bit slower.

"Uhm, Professor Slughorn?" Severus called, as his Head of House began to move away. Everyone stopped and looked back, the Aurors and the others obviously interested in hearing what he wanted.

Moisturizing his lips with a quick flick of his tongue, Severus looked up at the man that had ignored and praised him in turn, and whose parenting skills were faulty at best, although not completely lacking.

"Madam Pomfrey said that you had my wand, Professor. If Auror Paterson is not needing it for anything, might I have it back?" he asked, hating the note of trepidation, which was clear to hear for anyone present. He hated this weakness, but the truth was that he felt completely helpless without his wand. It was his shield and his weapon, and without it anyone could get at him, hurt him.

"I do not – Auror Paterson?" Professor Slughorn turned to the Auror questioningly.

The Auror drew himself up as he came back towards the bed.

"We have already tested the wand, Mr. Snape. There should be no harm in you having it, since you are sure not to be needing it while here." Auror Paterson looked at Madam Pomfrey, who nodded in response to the unasked question.

"Thank you." it was the most sincere thank-you he had uttered in months, a whole-heated gratitude as he accepted his wand back from his Head of House. The wand of beautiful grained yew was a bit worse for wear, but with a bit of care it would be as good as new. As he closed his fingers around the well-known handle, a spark of recognition flared straight up through his arm, and he felt a huge weight lift off of his shoulders. He could feel the power inside his wand, felt the connection, and for the first time since he woke up, he felt truly safe.

He was so focused on his wand, twirling it gently, lovingly through his fingers, that he was unaware that everyone had left except the Madam.

"There, now, you need to drink these, and then I want you to sleep, Mr. Snape. You need your rest to heal. I won't hear any protests. Here, this one first." Madam Pomfrey's voice brought him back, and he blinked up at her. Nodding in understanding, he twisted around, gritting his teeth against the bright flare of pain, and slipped his wand underneath his pillow, where it belonged.

Then he allowed her to help him up and obediently drank down the array of potions she had lined up. A small sigh of relief escaped him as he felt his aches dim once more and he sank grateful down into the soft bedding. His body grew loose, his focus wavering as the potion-induced sleepiness curled through him and combined with his very real physical and mental exhaustion, he gladly gave in and allowed himself to be dragged down into oblivion, knowing that he had his wand – and that Madam Pomfrey would guard him.

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_Please, let me know what you think._

_As a downside, it might take a little longer to get the next chapter up. The reason this chapter is late is because there was some technical difficulties when I tried to post it last Wednesday, and I had an exam that weekend which took my focus. _

_I'll have three more exams these following weeks, so updating might be a bit irregular, but I'll try to do so at least every second or third week, if possible. _

_Thanks for reading_

_Budgie4_


	5. Author's NoteChapter 4: Sick Surprises

**Author's Note!**

First, I apologise for adding this, as I know how infuriating author's notes are when you're waiting anxiously on a new chapter to a story.

However, I thought I'd better clear some facts up before I post the next chapter.

Next, I'll apologise _again_ for having taken so long to add something to this. Some of you might remember that I had some exams.

Typically, those exams bombed me out and I've had a time where I've been unable to show much interest in anything these past six months, including both school and writing fanfic.

Ironic, it is a new round of exams that has brought the interest back! I have a rather important oral examination on next Thursday, and I have seven days to prepare a thorough analysis on a company.

In order not to stress completely out, I've sought relaxation in my writings, and thus The Secret of Severus Snape, Slytherin, has been brought back from a rather unintended hiatus.

I can't promise to update another chapter soonish, since the one following this notice has purely been written for stress relief. However, as soon as I've survived my exam, I shall sit down and attempt to keep my promise to update regularly.

Now, before I let you go on to enjoy the next chapter, I have some clarification to do. It has been brought to my attention by some of you, that my last chapter was not as easily understood as I thought.

Therefore, I will attempt to explain my take on Severus' rendition of events taking place in the Shrieking Shack.

**1:** I have described Lupin as having no consciousness in his eyes, only hunger. The reasoning behind that is because of two things:

**First,** Lupin has _just_ transformed and is still a bit crazed from the pain of the transformation. In addition to that, in my mind at least, were-Lupin is animal in his thoughts-processes, not human, although he _is_ more intelligent than an ordinary animal as he is a magical creature.

**Second: **Severus is in human form when he confronts were-Lupin, and as is the general consensus, humans are the prey werewolves were created to hunt down and kill. (This is _my_ version of the werewolves – I know that I am mixing genres, but I allow myself the freedom to include the fact that werewolves were originally created by Dark Wizards back in the mists of history as a guardian and a weapon, and with time the curse developed a life of its own and it turned the werewolf into the mindless, uncontrollable beast known today)

**2:** I have been asked whether were-Lupin actually attacked Severus while he was in animagus form, and if he is dangerous to animals, how do the Marauders run with him on the full moon.

**First:** As it was pointed out to me, were-Lupin are capable of recognising his fellow Marauders when they visit him in their animagi forms, and so he must have some awareness of them. That is still true in my story! However, they come to him already transformed, and their human scents are still somewhat there, but muted with their animal scents. His human mind connects those scents as those of friendship, safety, companionship, and that notion carries over to his human mind. This is why he doesn't attack them, and actually accepts them as packmates so easily.

**Second:** My description of the fight between Severus and were-Lupin might be somewhat clumsy. While it may come across as were-Lupin attacking Severus in animagus form, it happens like this: were-Lupin is in the midst of biting _human _Severus when Severus abruptly transforms into an animal. It happens so fast, that were-Lupin doesn't have a chance to take that in before he bites Severus in the shoulder. It drops him when he scratches its face quite deeply, and at this point, were-Lupin is still high on adrenalin at the promise of human flesh to consume, as well as enrage by the pain, that he simply attacks regardless that Severus is in animal form.

**Third:** Werewolves _are _indifferent to animals in my story. However, I don't think the fact that humans are their _only_ choice of food logical. Therefore, I have included the fact that if hungry and there are no humans around, werewolves will settle for hunting down and eating an ordinary animal. The innate magical of an animagus offers some protection, as the werewolf will sense the power and leave them alone, unless they happen to enrage them, as Severus did, or have the scent of someone the werewolf's human counterpart considers an enemy.

I hope this has cleared up any doubts you might have had about the happenings in the Shack, otherwise send me a message and I'll try to explain further.

Again, many thanks to those who pointed out the flaws in the storyline! I really appreciate your help in keeping this story as true to canon as an AU can be.

To those of you that I haven't replied to in person for your reviews, I give you my regards and thank you for taking the time to comment. I appreciate your input, and hope you'll enjoy the story as it develops.

Now, on to the next chapter!

Please let me know what you think, and I'll reply at the latest next Friday, when I've had time to get myself together after the nervous breakdown I'll no doubt have on Thursday ;-)

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Ps. Thank you, tambrathegreat, for reminding me of the rules! I would be sad to be reported for not posting correctly. Hopefully now that I've put the author's note before the chapter, no-one should have reason to complain.

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**Sick Surprises:**

Waking up was a struggle.

He didn't know if he really wanted to.

He drifted in that between place, not really asleep but not really awake either. Stretches of time disappeared, and he thought he might have slept, before he became semi-conscious again. Not that he was awake enough to think, it was all vague impressions and subconscious conclusions.

Sometimes, he woke up more, often prompted by hands on his body, voices speaking close by, but he couldn't hear properly. The words blurred together, disappeared into smoke.

He remembered being too hot, burning. He wondered if the Marauders had played another 'prank', setting him on fire. He tried putting it out, but he couldn't find his voice, and his hand was not working. It hurt, and he didn't know why. Then there were restrictions, noise, and something foul attacking his mouth, crawling down his throat. He tried to fight it off, spit it out, but he couldn't. All he could do was swallow, and the world faded anew.

He also remembered freezing, teeth clattering and body convulsing, pain searing through him. He thought perhaps the heater had broken again, trying to burrow deeper into his bedding. Something niggled at the back of his mind at that thought, knowing somehow it was wrong. His dorm was never this cold, and it'd been years since he'd spent the colder months at home. But he was too tired to follow that line of thought to its conclusion. Again, there were hands and noise – _voices _– and he was force-fed another potion. Slowly, the shivers lessened and he was once more lost in the darkness.

He had strange dreams. People he vaguely recognised gathered by his bed, sometimes together, sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied by strangers.

His father was there, too, sitting by his bedside, speaking or simply watching. Sometimes holding his hand or wiping his brow.

That was wrong.

His mother was the one attending him when he was too hurt to take care of himself. Not his father.

Something really bad must have happened, but he couldn't remember what. All he found when he tried to search it out was the sight of glowing yellow eyes, the stench of rancid breath. It made him shy away, and he forgot to worry about the strange imaginings of his mind.

Had someone slipped him a potion to induce hallucinations?

Pomfrey came and went. She was the only constant in his ever-changing world, and he felt comforted whenever she appeared. He knew no-one could harm him while she was close by.

Things began appearing on his bedside table. Colourful cards. Flowers. Baskets filled with things. He didn't understand those. Things _disappearing_ he understood. Things _appearing_ was just strange.

Especially since it was _nice_ things.

He couldn't remember the last time anyone had given him something nice. Mind still foggy, thoughts floating by with no rhyme or reason, he gave up on figuring this newest puzzle out.

The ache in his head and the pains in his body convinced him not to dive too far into the happenings around him, and he slipped gratefully back into the drifting, content for the moment just to _be_.

He could figure his delusions out when he felt better.

* * *

He felt tired.

Exhausted really.

He frowned at himself. Then, with an annoyed sigh, he opened his eyes, gazing up at a familiar, pristinely white ceiling.

The Infirmary.

He remembered ending up here. He also remembered speaking to those Aurors and the others – who were they again? Something about children's rights. It wasn't really clear. He hoped his memory returned soon. He hated having holes in his memory. If it didn't he'd have to dig mother's book on mind magic out from its hiding place.

What had happened afterwards? Closing his eyes, he tried to recall something, _anything_, but it was floaty. Undefined, chaotic. Sort of like he'd felt when he'd caught a fever after sleeping outside during a downpour.

So. He'd been feverish, at least.

Annoyed at his lack of dependable recollections – he didn't even know what day or time it was! – he pushed it out of his mind. Madam Pomfrey would inform him whenever she decided to pop by. Knowing her, she was probably already on her way, having been alerted by those bloody wards of hers.

If she hadn't been such a mother hen, he'd have thought her a Slytherin, those wards were tricky things. He'd been trying to evade them for five years, and he still hadn't deduced all of them.

At least the pain had faded. He was tired, yes, but it was a physical exhaustion caused by – if he was right – sickness. His mind was suitable clear, allowing him to think clearly. That pleased him. As he tested his range of movement, he found that his shoulder, leg and side were more amendable to do his bidding without punishing him. Wonders of all wonders, it seemed that he had healed somewhat fully while being ill.

It seemed a fair trade for now. That did not mean, however, that he would not reconsider that notion once he found out what, exactly, had been going on.

A burst of colour to his left caught his attention, and he turned his head in order to face whatever it was so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. Wincing as the movement stretched muscles that apparently hadn't been exercised properly for some time, he froze.

He blinked, slowly. Then again. No, it was still there. Inside his curtained area. On his bedside table. _Overflowing_ his bedside table.

Where in the seventh circle of hell were Pomfrey when he needed an explanation?

Fairly certain that his eyes worked perfectly fine, yet still not convinced that what they told him that he was looking at was _actually_ what he was looking at, he just gaped like a clueless first year Gryffindor.

It was a riot of colours. Get-well cards in different shapes, sizes and colours, some still and some mowing, some vibrating with noisesless music, some a virtual firework of shifting colours, some more simple. A lot were in Slytherin green and silver, but the colours of the other Houses were also present. Then there were the baskets. Ranging in size from a hens egg to a well grown picnic basket, gift baskets were piled on and around the table, the contents varying from Honeydukes candy to hygiene products to wrapped packages to potions ingredients, office supplies and even – was that? Yes it was! – crystal balls of self-maintaining mage lights. There were stuffed animals, books and an abundance of flowers.

As his eyes roved across the multitude of colours, textures, shapes, something niggled at the back of his mind. He had a feeling that he ought to recognise these things, having vague memories of sharp colours and shapeless ghosts, wordless voices. He couldn't pinpoint anything, though. Any grasp he might have had were lost to the fog of sickness.

It was in _his_ space. He even saw his name of several of the cards. Obviously these things were meant for _him_.

What he didn't understand was _why!_ Why would anyone put something like this at his hospital bed, addressed to him? The only one who'd ever visited him in the Infirmary wasn't talking to him anymore. Even if it was some kind of joke… but Madam Pomfrey wouldn't allow that, would she? Not in her Infirmary. Not against one of her patients. She had kicked people out for less than taking a prank-card into her domain. This display was so – so _loud_ that she couldn't help but notice it. For these things to be here, they had to be real gifts.

But who would give him gifts? Why?

Unable to help himself, he reached out and picked one of the less garish cards off the table. It was a simple design, silver in colour with Slytherin green borders in the shape of snakes, the sigil of his House on the front. Taking a moment to simply look at it, at his name written neatly below the Slytherin crest, he opened it cautiously.

It didn't bite.

In fact, it didn't bite, shriek, sting, spray nasty liquid, begin to issue insults or any other hostile action.

It simply opened to reveal plain text written in the same looping handwriting as on the front, in silver against green background.

_Snape_ it read.

_I wish you well in regaining your health. _

_Congratulations on your continued survival. Your Slytherin actions are an example to the rest of our esteemed House. _

_Respectfully_

_Juliana Werrington_

_Seventh Year Slytherin Prefect_

He blinked. Read it again. Put it down. Picked it back up and read it a third time. No, the text didn't change. It really _was_ a get well card. With compliments in it. To him. He was being complimented by a prefect. A quite good looking, well-mannered pureblood from a high society family.

For a moment he just breathed. Allowed himself the time to let it sink in. He was receiving praise. For what he did to Lupin.

How would she know?

As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he scowled at himself. _Of course_ she would know. This was Hogwarts. Gossip travelled faster than the speed of light here, and twice as fast when it concerned a juicy secret like, for instance, that a _werewolf_ had attended classes without anyone the wiser.

When he finally heard the tapping footsteps of Madam Pomfrey, almost half an hour had passed by. He had struggled into a sitting position leaning against the headboard, and he'd made a bit of headway through the myriad cards.

He had receive cars from members of all the Houses, although nothing from the Gryffindor sixth years. All the cards were in the same theme. Well wishes on his health. Congratulations and even awe in his taking down a werewolf in close quarters. Apologies for past treatment and misjudgement of his character. One card, from a second year Gryffindor, even went so far as to state that 'his actions on behalf of Lily Evans was a Gryffindor worthy'.

Naturally, that card had been tossed away in disgust.

"My apologies for not being here sooner, Mr Snape." Madam Pomfrey said as he pulled his curtain open, stepping close and waving her wand to assess his condition. "I am afraid I was stuck treating some of the Professors after a heated argument. Now, you seem much improved. Do you think you are hungry enough to eat? It would do you good. I was forced to put you on a diet of potions only the last little while." Pomfrey explained in that staccato, no-nonsense way she had.

At the mention of food, his stomach let out a growl, and he nodded sheepishly, trying to keep a dignified expression on his face.

"Yes, Madam. Food would be welcome." He affirmed, and watched as she called a house elf and ordered a proper meal for him consisting of broth, bread and milk.

"Madam, what happened? What is all this?" he asked, gesturing towards the gifts.

"You were very lucky, Mr Snape, that is what happened. Mrs Schermer and Mr Haggard came back and spoke with you the day after the Aurors took your statement. Do you remember that?" she asked, taking the tray from the house elf as it popped back in, setting it to hover over his lap. Then, she sat down in the chair to the right of his bed. A chair he hadn't noticed, his attention having been focused solely to his left.

He nodded yes, although it was a very vague memory. More of an impression, really, and began eating. Oh, but it tasted good!

"Good. Well, I gave you a potion to help you sleep after they left. Sleeping is the best way of healing, with cursed wounds like yours. Unfortunately, you didn't wake up again. You developed a rather nasty fever, caused, I have no doubts, by your immune system and innate magic trying to fight off the infection of lycanthropy. It seem that you got some of the werewolf saliva into your human bloodstream despite being bitten in animagus form. After four days of your near constant unconsciousness, where nothing I could do helped, I put you into a healing coma. You have been in that state for eight days, and when the worst was over, I gave you the antidote to wake you up. It have taken you an additional three days to wake up." Here she paused, to let him digest the information, as well as his meal.

"As for your gifts, you have become quite the popular figure. The students, who followed Mr Potter as he raced through the castle that night, has been spreading the news of what they saw. The grapevine has also reported that you did it in order to keep your word to a certain Gryffindor. If the news of Mr Lupin was not enough to get the school into a riot, the news of your heroics added to it. There have been quite a few people asking to see you. I have turned them away, of course, but they returned with those." She nodded towards the spoils.

"Now, finish your meal, Mr Snape. I have to go to my office a bit, but afterwards I'm coming back to check your injuries. When that is done, you should be up to receive visitors. Your father has been quite anxious for you to get better. He will be delighted to see you clear-headed." She smiled, rising.

Father? What?

"My father?" he asked, incredulous. "He's here?"

"Yes, Mr Snape. Auror Seabrooke managed to locate him, and after a bit of talking with Mrs Schermer, it was arranged for him to come and stay here at Hogwarts while you recovered. He's sleeping now. He's been sitting with you almost around the clock. He's been very concerned for you, dear. Now, eat up. I'll be back in a little while."

With that, she left him, closing the curtain behind her. He listened as the sound of her steps faded, feeling emotionally numb.

What the hell happened? What _was_ happening?

The world had gone crazy. Had the Apocalypse arrived, and he hadn't noticed? It must have. It was the only explanation.

He was getting gifts from his fellow students, from all Houses, and even from people _outside_ Hogwarts. He was – according to Pomfrey, and she had never lied to him – some sort of misunderstood hero. Here, he grimaced at himself.

His father was here, and he was concerned.

Oh, bugger, he was still delusional! This had to be some sort of fever dream. Otherwise, it didn't make sense. No sense at all.

Mechanically, he finished his meal. He sat still and moved accordingly when Madam Pomfrey came back, explaining the state of his wounds, her procedure and the reasons behind it, swallowed the potions she handed him, and sank gratefully back into the pillows when she finished up.

The touch of a hand on his head made him glance up, and he saw the soft look in her eyes, the maternal smile she directed at him, before she once more became the imperious mediwitch.

With a nod, she left him once more, and he simply stared up at the ceiling, unblinking.

The sound of low voices, and nearing footsteps – one belonging to Pomfrey, the other more dragging, heavier – caught his attention. He turned his head in time for the curtain to part, and stared at a man he hadn't thought to ever see in this environment. A man he hadn't expected to see again until the end of June.

"Pa?" he asked, questioning, still not believing that his eyes were not betraying him.

"Sherlock."


End file.
